A Wicked Conceit (Lady Darby Mysteries #9) - Anna Lee Huber Page 0,84
After all, you just said yourself I’m a terrible punter.”
“Yes, but I think you did learn that somehow. Perhaps directly from the man who styles himself Mugdock.”
Neither of these accusations seemed to ruffle Kirkcowan in the least. In fact, he seemed to be enjoying himself as he finally found his balance and tugged on his coat to straighten it, nearly toppling over again.
“And when Rookwood declined to publish the sequel, perhaps you helped Mugdock kill him.” This was just a lie meant to provoke a reaction from Kirkcowan, but it jostled something in my brain all the same. Albeit something I couldn’t quite place.
Kirkcowan’s eyes narrowed.
“I suspect all of this is information the police would be glad to have,” Gage threatened.
“Go ahead,” he blustered. “They can’t detain a man of my station. And they would never dare to toss me into debtors’ prison.”
“Maybe,” Henry conceded. “But what will you do once your illegal source of income has been foiled? How will you pay me and the other gentlemen you’ve dunned?” He took a step forward to stand in line with Gage. “You might think the police won’t dare, but for a dozen or more angry lords, I can assure you, they will.”
Perspiration broke out across Kirkcowan’s brow, and his hands clenched into fists at his sides, but the same stubbornness which made him such a terrible card player also kept him from folding now. He gave a sharp crack of laughter. “You think that’s my only source of income,” he retorted, all but admitting that our accusations about fraud were true. “You’re not the only one who’s good at uncovering other people’s secrets.” He strode forward, glaring sideways up into Gage’s face. “Or putting them to use.”
He shouldered his way past them toward the door, and Gage and Henry didn’t stop him, apprehending, as I had, that Kirkcowan was not going to tell us anything.
“Bloody fool,” Gage spat.
“Yes, but a bloody fool who knows something and is not above using blackmail to profit from it,” I said, pressing a hand to my back, which had begun to ache.
“I just hope he doesn’t attempt to blackmail the wrong person.” He planted his hands on his hips, shaking his head. “He’s playing with fire. I’ll have to hire someone to follow him and discover where he goes, who he speaks to.” Turning away from the door, he offered his hand to Henry. “Thank you for your assistance with this,” he declared, shaking his hand. “As reckless as he is, Kirkcowan would never have allowed himself to be goaded into a game of chance with me, and it might have taken me all night to best him as you did so thoroughly.”
“My pleasure.”
Gage glanced at me. “We’re finished here, and I suspect you’d like to go.”
“Yes.”
“Are you staying, or can we give you a lift to Bowmont House?” he asked Henry.
“I’m leaving, so I’ll take you up on that.” Lord Henry’s gaze flicked toward mine, making my insides flutter with nerves. “Actually, there’s something I wished to discuss with you.”
Gage nodded, offering me his arm and then guiding me toward the door. “If it’s about the blunt Kirkcowan owes you, that’s entirely your affair,” he spoke over his shoulder. “All I ask is that you wait a few days before attempting to collect it or forgive it to keep the pressure up on him.”
“What of the jewel fraud?” Henry murmured, following us closely.
“That I intend to inform Sergeant Maclean with the Edinburgh City Police about at the earliest convenience.”
Henry’s silence seemed to convey his approval, and I was far more preoccupied with the realization that Henry was finally going to tell Gage that they shared a father. It was time. It was past time. And yet still I dreaded the knowledge that my husband was going to be startled by the news. There was no bones about it, he was going to be terribly hurt by the discovery of his father’s betrayal of his mother. I could only hope that the pleasure of learning he had Henry as a half brother was compensation for some of that pain.
The men conversed cordially about various topics as we drove the short distance through New Town to our town house. While I could barely manage to contribute more than monosyllabic comments to the discussion, I was amazed by Henry’s ability to speak seemingly without a trace of nerves. Only the twinges in my back seemed capable of directing my thoughts elsewhere.